Then you are doing it wrong. My mother grinned at my confusion. Seems to me that sparring – even with only one’s shadow – was still the practice of fighting. Or defense. Or aggression. Or something other than the practice of being a lady.
Category: art
Stories of the Sword: The Sheepdog
The door opened. I found myself checking for him unexpectedly. Throughout the holidays, I felt his presence with me as I shopped and walked..
Happy New Year!
December 31, 2022 The peculiarities of life, no matter how grand or small, never seem to not amaze me. My… Read more Happy New Year!
Happy Hanukkah!
I am fairly certain I am “messing up” as I light the menorah. (Do I allow the shamash to keep burning?) But I learn a bit more each year..(the answer is ‘yes’)
The Speaking Sword
… I see her smile in her dreams. For once, all seems quiet and gentle. And consistent. I would have reprieves of such times in the past, but they would disappear as a flicker in the wind.
The Lake of Ghosts
I painted the waves with the pen of my memories..
Cuteness.
Rather than heavy words and even heavier thoughts and feels, maybe just a bit of cuteness!
July 14.
Happy almost birthday to me! I have quite a path of learning ahead of me, but I’m liking it!! Lots… Read more July 14.
Flight 56.
I ascended slightly. I wanted to feel the pain of the full wind coming at me. I wanted to test the strength which I knew I had and therefore, was no test at all.
A Skull Innocuous
Under make-up and skin; beside the jewelry and clothes; this is what I am. This is my truth…